


A Slight Misunderstanding

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-10
Updated: 2006-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little mishap at the newspaper ruins Cordelia's day, nixes Wesley's sideline, and just might get Angel some.  Written for the "Personal Ad" challenge at lighter_wesley. AtS S1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slight Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Wesley wasn’t able to wish Cordelia a good afternoon before she let into him.

“There you are. What has happened to you? Was it the leather pants? I bet it was the leather pants, wasn’t it? That’s how it starts, one teensy little kink and before you know it you’re strapped naked to a wheel in a leather thong, begging Mistress Spanksalot for mercy!”

Wesley stared at her, slack-jawed, until she finished her tirade. “I-I-I beg your pardon?”

Cordelia backed away from him. “Oh, no you don’t, mister. Our time together was brief but it’s over. You can just find someone else to be your dominatrix!”

“Dominatrix? Cordelia, you aren’t under some sort of spell, are you? Because I haven’t a bloody clue what you’re talking about!”

Cordelia picked up her message pad and waved it at him angrily. “ _This_ is what I’m talking about! Don’t you have your own phone that you can use for this sort of stuff?”

“Cordelia, I still don’t know what’s going on!”

“They’ve been calling all day! I knew there were some major sickos in L.A. but you should have heard the things these people wanted to do to you—with you—and with _me_! With whips, and and and straps, and--my God, Wesley! Kitchen utensils!”

Wesley continued to stare at her in shock.

“I asked one of them where they got this number and they told me.” Cordelia shoved a folded section of the newspaper at him.

Wesley took the paper and looked at the ad Cordelia had circled in red ink.

“‘Affordable custom binding by hand. Leather a speciality. W. W.-P. 213-555-0163.’” He then noticed which section of the paper he held. “Oh, good lord. I’m going to kill that clerk in the advertising department! Not only did he leave out the word ‘book’, but he was supposed to put this in the classifieds, not the personals!”

Cordelia continued to keep her distance. “Maybe it’s your own business what you do in your own time, Wes, but I had no idea you were into bondage. Although the book kink, I could see.”

Wesley rolled his eyes. “ _Binding_ , not bondage. Custom book-binding. I took a course in book-binding a couple of years ago and I thought I’d try to make a little extra money by offering my services on the side. It’s arts and crafts, not S and M.”

“So, not a leather and bondage fetishist?” Cordelia asked curiously.

Wesley became pensive. “Well, sometimes I like--”

“Okay, _so_ don’t wanna know about it.” Cordelia cut him off.

Wesley picked up the phone. “I’ll call the newspaper and make sure they change the ad before tomorrow’s edition comes out. Until then we’ll just have to tell callers they have the wrong number.”

“Oh, no. I tried that, but some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer. Seems you attracted a lot of pushy bottoms.”

Wesley lifted an eyebrow. “And just how do you know about pushy bottoms?”

“How do _you_ know about them?” she retorted.

“Touché.” He muttered. “But what shall we do about these callers?”

They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

“Wanna grab some supper?” Cordelia suggested.

Wesley put down the phone. “Sounds good.”

...

_Later that evening..._

Angel groaned in exasperation as the phone rang again. Where the hell had Cordy and Wes gone? 

“Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. No, I do _not_ have my own set of ass-less chaps! I… you wanna wear what? I… uh, a nun’s habit, huh? Um…” Angel looked about nervously. “What was your number again?”


End file.
